


And We Fall From the Clouds

by roseandheather



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6553984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which not everything has to end in fireworks to be worth doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Fall From the Clouds

There's nothing quite so beautiful, he thinks, as the sight of Leanne Rorish sleeping.

Moonlight strikes off her cheekbones to highlight the long, sooty lashes fanning out from her closed eyelids and ripples in a silvery wash over her unbound hair. She's curled up on her side, her cheek pillowed on her hands, and here in the quiet she seems to have lost two decades from her face. The worry lines in her forehead smooth out with the darkness, and she's breathing soft and slow, as relaxed as he's ever seen her.

"Hi," she murmurs sleepily, those glorious eyes blinking open as he slides under the covers. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too," he whispers, and leans in to kiss her, sweet and lazy.

She slings a leg over his hip, drawing him closer, and he can feel her satisfied smile as she rocks a little against the hard ridge of his erection.

"We don't have to," he starts, but she shakes her head, then leans in to kiss him again. Her movements are still muddled with sleep, but her touch is tender nonetheless.

"Go ahead," she says, low and quiet. "Just don't ask me to move too much."

"Your enthusiasm is certainly flattering," he says drily, but when he reaches between her legs, he finds her wet and soft and open.

It's enough, and more than. He slides inside her with a fluttering heart and gentle hands, and takes pleasure from her contented sigh as he settles completely. True to her words, she doesn't move much, but she's making soft, pleased noises in the back of her throat with every lazy stroke, and there's a certain kind of beauty in intimacy like this - here in the quiet, not chasing fireworks, but satisfied instead with the warm glow of two people who know each other's bodies like they know their own.

When he comes it's more unspooling than explosion; he unravels with a quiet groan of her name as she nuzzles the base of his throat, her hands skittering carelessly over his shoulder and cheek and temple. "C'mon, babe," she says, and lets out a long, low sigh as he spills inside her at last.

When he reaches between them again she pushes his hand away, shaking her head slightly. "Takes too much energy," she murmurs against his collarbone, and snuggles more closely into his arms. "Not worth it. Just hold me, m'kay?"

"If you insist," he whispers, already half asleep himself, and draws her more closely to him. He falls asleep between one breath and the next, the metronome of Leanne's steady snuffles the metronome to his own heartbeat.

They do find fireworks in the morning, chasing each other to quiet curses and bright fire-flowers behind their eyes. But in truth, deep in his heart, he will honestly treasure the night before even more; will treasure Leanne, content only to have the intimacy, floating in her own pleasure instead of chasing its peak. Will treasure her pliant, willing body in his arms, her mouth on his skin, her soft endearments in his ear as they find each other in the dark and the quiet.

He's never, he thinks, felt quite so safe as that night.

In the morning he comes downstairs to find her standing over the burbling coffeepot. He slides his arms around her waist, and grins a little foolishly when she covers his hands with hers and leans back against his chest.

"About last night," he says, and she turns, looping her arms around his neck.

"It wasn't flying," she interrupts, before he can finish his sentence. "It was floating. And that was all I needed. Got it?"

She stretches up to kiss him then, soft and sweet and slow, then pulls back to study his face.

"No," he says, the cheeky smile already curving his lips. "Perhaps you'd better explain it to me some more."

She gives him a little shove, but then she leans up to kiss him again, and he feels like he's on top of the world.

By the time they get around to the coffee, it's barely lukewarm.

 

 


End file.
